there is a lot of merriness going on
and cool jamz in the form of pentatonic perfection
Marshicorns unite and get us along for some bluuuues.
thank you Sarah and Emma.
Edinburgh Queen’s Hall
I wake oftentimes lain on sofa.
State of the art, is this sofa.
Coarse, cosy covering.
All angular and protruding.
I call it my boat.
Have sailed to sleep in this safe structure more times than in any other, except the home sack, of course.
Feels, almost, like a home.
The whole summer has been one of rooting:
Workshops that cover series of consecutive days,
build communities. (BIGproject, Vox Liminus and commonwealth games)
Gigs that happen no more than a days train ride away which means a return to the boat before the days out.
Jen and I went to Belfast the other day.
That was the first airport in about 4 or 5 months. A long time by comparison to last year and the year before and the year before…
I lie there, beneath huge old wooden shutters that blink golden glimmers of morning light.
Open, with my feet, a good gap to let the sun swelter filter
in and fill the room, all wood floor and red walls
Photos. Junk. Books. Computer bits. Jack leads. Cameras. A bulbless lamp. Fire place. Dormant television set. Clothes, everywhere and unclean. A hint of food, fabric, foost, whisky and a night’s sleep hanging on the air. Dancing with the dust.
Mike (of Mike Guest Photography and Jen’s boyfriend) and Gav (Mike & Jen’s flat mate who can build anything from kayaks to giant TV screen walls for the commonwealth games) have already left, hours ago, for work.
Jen is up in time to say farewell to me.
Towards the meadows I morning march.
Off to see a piece of fringe.
Nonsense poems and the Lady of Shallot, recited and performed by a chamber orchestra and beautiful dancers.
The Owl and the Pussycat.
A follow the leader dance around the hall. Children whooping with glee.
And then The Lady of Shallot.
My mouth keeps falling open.
Keep giggling to myself. Right down to my stomach.
Back at flat.
Mike has bought plaice.
Leave the cooking up to him.
Jen works on her illustrations.
I head out, in giant t-shirt, to the beautiful green of the back garden.
Stretch and sit in the sun until lunch wafts.
Always one to get excited for.
The grand piano is waiting for Jen’s fair touch.
Waiting to brush against her thoughts with it’s ivories and steel.
Her spirit shall grace the harmonics. SWEET.
Colin has arrived. His ma, Tracy, has joined him.
I need a dress for the performance.
While Jimi works on EQ mysteries, us ladies head for the charity shops of Nicolson st.
Most doors are closed. It is too late.
As hope is dissolving, notice the open door of a bric a brac shop.
Filled with nik naks. Junk. Antiques. Nothing in order. Unpolished brass and silver spills from the door.
Our man, in the shop, is about to close up. Invites us in.
There, under a pile of African and Indian saris, all garish and shimmering, is a blue dress.
He tells me
the queen would be very happy to see you in that.
It flys onto the stage with me, all in it and bare footed.
The very same feet that let open this bright morning, now carry me into the night. Stand before an audience, most kind.
Three spots of light, one for each of us.
Tonight’s gig, I regard as the first of the Autumn tour -
begins in two months from now. To celebrate the release of the Live in Dawson album (released on the 13th Oct).
Time to try out all new songs, recently written.
Recording has begun on the isle of Lewis with Colin. For another album…
Have some idea of the shapes of the songs,
but nothing is better than to experience it experienced live.
There is a good response.
In me, a shiver.
The feeling of new notes blowing,
new words falling,
new feelings breathing
Jimi is also excited. A lot of the new songs could get ‘massive’ with noise. This excites me too.
Jen. Shocked. Could it be that I have used quite conventional chord sequences?
There’s nothing to catch her out?
Could it be that I am conforming? Who knows.
It feels right for the songs.
I also have quite a few new songs that have an actual chorus.
The jam of the donut comes in the middle.
No different for tonight’s set.
Colin sings his song, Easy Way Out.
Father Ted Quotes,
me calling the piano a whale and Jen saying ‘Don’t talk to me like that.’,
I tell everyone ‘Colin had a good thrashing yesterday.’
Colin is compelled to further explain…
‘My ma’s in the audience…’
What I meant was that he hit his head on the sea bed, surfing.
It does need explaining.
I am so happy with this night of music and laughter and blue dress and bare feet
That I drink a lot of whisky.
With the good people of the flat and their friendly friends.
Next morning. Is my first proper hangover in 2 years.
Last time was Switzerland. La Parenthese. You may not have read that Tour Journal…it’s a funny one. Wasn’t so funny at the time.
Off to Middlesbrough for a house concert with some Marshicorns…
By Jonathan Geddes